


YULETIDE TALES 2006: VELVET AND GOLD

by erestor



Series: YULETIDE TALES [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Humor, M/M, Melancholy, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erestor/pseuds/erestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your first love might be your last love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is "Day 5" of the Yuletide Tales 2004 (just in case it looks familiar to you). As it happens, a plot bunny bit my leg and it ended up being a three-chapter-story. :-)
> 
> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

Gimli shuddered, despite the cosy fire he sat by, when the door opened and a blast of cold winter air blew into the hall.

The Dwarf immediately knew who it was that had entered, wrapped in a heavy cloak and accompanied by a servant who had shown him the way.

"Legolas! Laddie! What a sight for my old sore eyes!" the Dwarf boomed, jumping up and stepping carefully over his eldest son and his daughter who were playing on the hearth rug in front of his seat.

"Gimli! Old friend!"

Legolas, his face flushed from the warmth, took off his cloak and handed it to the servant, who left to take the garment to the Mirkwood Elf's guest chamber. Legolas ran his hands through his hair, and gave his old friend and brother-in-arms a big smile.

Gimli quickly crossed the room, and hugged the Elf around the waist, squeezing him tight. Legolas bent down and returned the embrace, his joy at the reunion obvious on his face.

"Here, laddie, come and sit with me by the fire, until you can meet Lord Elrond."

Legolas, tired from the long journey, gladly accepted the offer. He went to the chair opposite Gimli's, careful not to step on the two Dwarflings who were so involved in their play that they didn't even look up at the new arrival.

"Did you get in a fight on your way here?" Gimli asked, and pointed at Legolas' torn sleeve. The Mirkwood Elf shook his head, and pulled on the small piece of fabric. When it finally tore off, he put it on the armrest to have it sewn back on later on.

"No, I got caught on a nail in the stables and tore it off," he replied.

"You are still grace personified, I see," Gimli said, grinning smugly, but Legolas was too tired to take the bait.

"Aaah… there is nothing like a comfortable chair in front of a warm fire," the Elf sighed, snuggling deeper into the comfortable chair.

"And the company of an old friend," the Dwarf added, putting his glass aside. Then he got up and filled one for Legolas from the kettle which was steaming peacefully over the fire.

The Elf sniffed.

"Mulled wine - just what I need to unfreeze the tip of my nose!"

Legolas stretched his long legs, then gave the Dwarf a smug grin.

"Remember our little drinking contest, back in Rohan?"

Gimli winced, but the Elf could not tell whether this was due to the memory of the hangover from Mordor the Dwarf had suffered from after that event, or if the pain was caused by Gimli's son who had used a moment of inattentiveness on his father's part to pull forcefully on his beard.

"Children are such a pleasure to have around," Legolas remarked dryly, and took another sip of wine. "It is a good thing Elves do not grow beards, though. The risk of injury is much lower that way."

Gimli ruffled the Dwarfling's hair.

"You've got braids, my lad, so better not raise your hopes of surviving parenthood unscathed."

Legolas laughed.

"Gimli, I am not even married yet, and already you discuss my children!"

The Dwarf winked at the Elf.

"Oh, they come quicker than you might think. I expect to see you and your wife here at Yuletide two years from now, sitting in front of the fire with your firstborn! Has your father recovered from his shock, by the way? It's said that his yelling could be heard even in Lothlórien when he learned the big news."

The Elf chuckled, and rolled his eyes.

"My father's bark is worse than his bite. It is true, though, that he did not break into joyful song when I announced that I intend to marry Erduil's daughter."

"He is the head of the clan of Northern Mirkwood, isn't he? Not a friend of your father, I remember."

Now Legolas had to laugh. He looked so young, Gimli thought, though he was over 3000 years old. Elves were miracles. And some of them had a decidedly mischievous nature.

"My father threatened that he would knit a warm hat for his head out of Erduil's braids if his daughter should dare to talk to me. Then Erduil let my ada know that in his part of Mirkwood, caves were there to store potatoes, not kings. They enjoy their mutual dislike greatly, and our marriage will give them countless hours of entertainment."

The two friends laughed, and the Dwarflings, though they had no idea what the grown-ups were laughing about, joined in. For a while, all four sat in companionable silence, then a noise at the door caught their attention.

Legolas looked up, and saw that the door had opened a tiny bit, but oddly, nobody seemed to wish to enter and join them.

"Please come in and join us by the fire," the Wood Elf said. The door opened a little more, but still, nobody entered. However, Legolas' ears picked up the sound of nervous breathing.

Gimli chuckled. He turned around, and said: "Come in, lad, your uncle Gimli is here, and a friend of mine. I'd like you to meet him. Just come right in, there's nothing to fear here."

Legolas arched an eyebrow, but Gimli didn't answer, just shook his head and smiled.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the door was pushed open slowly, and an Elf-child slipped in. It was a boy, maybe 30 years of age, long-boned and clad in soft brown leather leggings and a brown, woollen tunic. The narrow face was dominated by large brown eyes, and the black hair was neatly caught in a single braid, which hung over his shoulder. The boy was currently playing with the clasp on this braid, not sure of how to proceed, or whether it was safe to get closer to the visitor.

Gimli beckoned him to approach, smiling gently.

"Don't be afraid, little one. Look, this is Legolas, the Elf with the bad aim I've told you about."

Legolas wanted to protest, but when he saw the expression of excitement on the child's face, he decided that he could tie a knot in Gimli's beard once the young one had departed. The child came to stand beside the Dwarf, but he stared at Legolas as if he had been hypnotized.

The Mirkwood Elf felt a little uncomfortable under the child's scrutinizing look. The boy looked neat and clean, whereas he himself wore a jerkin of emerald velvet; an exquisite garment, but like the rest of him covered in the grime of a long journey.

"Legolas, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine: this is Estorel, the firstborn of our dear friends Erestor and Glorfindel."

Now it was Legolas' turn to stare. So this was the little Elf all of Arda spoke about! He still did not really understand how it had been possible for the two Elves to have this child, and certainly had no wish to hear any further details.

Estorel came closer, and then, very carefully and shyly, he reached out and stroked the soft piece of velvet on the armrest of Legolas' chair. He looked up at the Mirkwood Elf.

"My ada has golden hair too," he said.

"Has he?" Legolas asked, rather unintelligently.

Estorel nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes. But his is neatly kempt and braided, and he has no twigs sticking in it."

"Out of the mouth of babes..." Gimli snickered, and Legolas glared at him.

"So you are a real prince then?" Estorel continued his interrogation. Legolas shook his head.

"No, I am not a prince, penneth."

"But your ada is a king," Estorel stated, "then you must be a prince."

Legolas scratched his head, and while he was at it, discreetly removed a twig which, indeed, had tangled in his hair.

"Well yes, my ada is a king, but this does not make me a prince. It is complicated. I will explain it to you once you are grown up."

Estorel shuffled his feet and frowned.

"That is what all grown-ups tell me, every time I ask something."

"Then you should not ask things which are not the concern of an Elfling," Legolas replied, slightly desperate.

"Why not?"

"Because you are keeping our guest from taking a well-deserved rest after his long journey, son," Erestor's voice could be heard behind them. The advisor had entered and followed the conversation with silent amusement. However, he did not want to expose Legolas to further inquiries about his somewhat complicated family life and status in Mirkwood, so he decided to come to the Woodland Elf's rescue.

"Sia, look, he has golden hair, like ada! But he does not comb it!" Estorel cheerfully announced, and Legolas tried to hide in the depths of the chair.

"I am sure he does, Estorel, and it is not polite to annoy a guest in such a way. Why do you not go to the kitchen? Mauburz has just taken the cookies out of the oven, and if you ask her, she will certainly share them with you. Your brother helped her to make them."

Estorel's face lit up.

"Thank you, Sia!" The boy stroked the fabric one last time. "Can I have it, please?" he asked, his eyes full of hope, and Legolas, trusting that a positive answer would speed up the boy’s departure, nodded.

"If it makes you happy..."

"Thank you!"

Estorel took the piece of velvet, and showed his new possession proudly to Erestor.

"Look, Sia - the beautiful Elf is all soft!"

Then he dashed out of the door, and shut it with a loud 'bang', which made Erestor wince.

"Looks like you got yourself another admirer, laddie," Gimli grinned, "you soft, beautiful Elf, you."

"One more word, and this soft Elf here will hang you out to dry by your beard," Legolas growled.

Erestor bowed, but he had a smile on his face as well, and his eyes sparkled with mirth.

"My apologies - my son tends to speak whatever comes to his mind, he certainly had no intention of insulting you. He is very fascinated by velvet, and with the exception of his brother, uncle and father, he has not seen a golden-haired Elf yet. So naturally, your appearance made a great impression on him."

Legolas shook his head.

"I am not insulted, Master Erestor. From all my ada told me, I used to embarrass visitors regularly with my questions when I was an Elfling. This is overdue punishment for my evil deeds, I suppose."

"Your chambers are ready. When you wish to rest and refresh yourself, one of the servants will show you the way. I have a meeting in five minutes, so unfortunately I cannot keep you company, but I hope we will find some time for talk during your stay. I am very curious to hear how things fare in Mirkwood."

Legolas nodded.

"We definitely will, Master Erestor, I have some messages from my ada, anyway, which need to be discussed with Lord Elrond. I would also like to extend my gratitude for inviting me to attend the Yule festivities in Imladris."

Erestor nodded, bowed first to Gimli, then to Legolas, and left the room to return to his duties.

Legolas took another swig of the mulled wine, which, by now, had cooled down.

"There is nothing of a female about him," he finally said, "and yet, he has borne a child. This is very confusing."

Gimli thought about it for a moment, then he shook his head.

"I wouldn't call it confusing, laddie. Rather a miracle. And isn't anything that brings life a good thing?"

Legolas thought back on the many battles he had fought, the friends and the family he had lost, and he sighed.

"I guess you are right, my dear friend. Giving life is, in any case, better than taking it. I hold Master Erestor in very high regard. It is only that I cannot understand all this. I am nothing but a simple archer, Gimli, as you well know. I have not studied the sciences or read a lot of books like my ada and my uncle. Most of our warriors are better educated than me. I am a simple Elf, and I need simple answers."

Gimli smiled in his beard, and after a moment of contemplation, Legolas added:

"I am a simple Elf. But I am beautiful and soft. So I shall not complain. And now I would really like more of this mulled wine, dear Gimli."

* * *

The box had been carved by Orophin for Estorel to keep his little treasures in - a present on his last begetting day. The child kept it hidden under his bed, and while the contents of this box might have looked like a collection of junk to others, it was worth more than gold to Estorel. Dried autumn leaves. Pebbles from the Bruinen. Chestnuts. A hairclip. Raven feathers and a Warg tooth Rabbit had given him. A book of colourful pictures from Lindir. Things of great importance and value for the child.

Estorel carefully put the small piece of emerald velvet in the box. He held it softly, as if it was a fragile thing like a butterfly, then he closed the lid and pushed the box back under the bed.

Then he hurried to the kitchen, for Estorel, like all children, favoured cookies over princes, real or fake ones.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first love might be your last love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

Accepting Elrond's invitation had been a mistake. Legolas had known that all along, but his father and especially Nonfindel had insisted that it was time for him to return among the living, and not wall himself up and spend his days mourning any longer.

The living - what lovely company they had been. Legolas remembered well that Yule 70 years ago. He had sat here in the very same seat, a glass of mulled wine in hand, Gimli sitting next to him and two little Dwarflings playing at their feet. The son of Erestor and Glorfindel had come to keep them company, ask blunt questions and compliment Legolas for being 'a beautiful Elf'.

Legolas laughed without mirth. Gimli had broken a leg and could not travel, the two little Dwarflings were all grown up and had children on their own, and as far as the 'beautiful Elf' was concerned - well. It was not very likely he would hear the same compliment again this time.

Legolas he had never sung his own praise, it had just been the truth: he had been beautiful. If it had not been for his total lack of vanity that fact could have been his downfall. But as it just happened, his downfall was the people of Breon, setting Mirkwood on fire the second day of Yule 60 years ago. It had taken the Elves many days to extinguish the fire, many lives had been lost.

Legolas closed his eyes. If at least it had been possible for him to make a funeral pyre for his wife and son, if there had at least been the chance for a decent 'farewell'. But there had only been ashes left, of trees, animals and his family. She had never wanted to live in the Great Cave, and as with everything, he had given in to her wishes. If only he had refused her that one wish, if only he had insisted on her and the little one living at the Great Cave, then she could have been sitting with him now. And their son? Would be a youth now, a little older than Estorel had been back then.

If, but, when. Legolas cursed his father and Nonfindel for talking him into coming to Imladris. The festivities had been torture. Nobody mentioned his loss, nobody approached him about his scars, everybody pretended that nothing had happened and treated him as if he was still the happy-go-lucky Legolas of old days. The forced cheerfulness around him made him angry; Erestor's understanding silence when he sat with him by the fire was a bliss. He had left hours ago, claiming that he had to look for Estorel.

Coming to think of it, Legolas had not seen Estorel at all so far. Nobody had. Erestor had made some excuses, mentioning that his son was having a difficult time, but from the conversations Legolas had overheard, the oldest son of Erestor and Glorfindel must have been quite a handful. They said he was spending his days in the woods, did not obey any rules and caused his parents a lot of sorrow.

Legolas looked up. Somebody had entered the Great Hall, he could feel it.

"Come forward," he ordered. "I do not like those who hide in the shadows."

"And I do not like those who order me around in my own home," came the arrogant answer.

"You do not sound like Elrond, so unless the Master of Imladris has retired and handed over his duties to you, this is still his home."

"True. But you sit in my seat."

Legolas squinted his eyes. In his younger days, it would not have been a problem for him to see his visitor, even if it had been pitch dark in the Great Hall, but the fire had damaged his sight.

"My apologies. There was no sign on it to inform me about your ownership," he said. "So why not come into the light so we can fight about it? I would be just in the mood."

A chuckle, then a tall Elf emerged from the shadows. For a brief moment, Legolas thought it was Erestor, but on second look, it became obvious that he was talking to Estorel.

"Ah, the evasive one. Shall we fight over your seat now, or will you accept, just for this evening, the seat next to me?"

Estorel looked Legolas over without shame. Legolas did not mind, he preferred the scrutinizing gaze of the young one to the embarrassed stares of the other guests.

"If I cannot have my seat, then I shall sit in front of the fire," Estorel said. "What happened to your face?"

Legolas was taken aback by this blunt question, but he also felt relief. Estorel had just asked what everybody else thought, and Legolas preferred the direct approach.

"Your manners leave a lot to be desired," he said, curious to see Estorel's reaction.

"If you would not want company, you would have retreated to your rooms. One who sits by the fire in the Great Hall, with an empty seat next to him, does wish to talk."

Legolas arched an eyebrow.

"You are rather bold for one of your age, Estorel. But you might be right. Maybe I do wish to talk."

"So tell me, what happened to your face? I remember what you looked like when you were here the last time. Now your face is marred with burn marks, and your arm is crippled."

"You are very blunt."

Estorel shrugged.

"Would you rather that I sat with the others and talked about you behind your back? Poor Legolas, so terrible, it is such a tragedy, and then smile at you when you walk by? I want to know what happened, so I ask you."

There was no malice in the young Elf. Legolas leaned back in his seat and stared into the fire.

"There is not much to tell. The people of Breon set Mirkwood on fire, I lost my wife, my son. Many families mourned the loss of loved ones, I was just one of them. We fought the fire for many days, but there is only so much an Elf can do. They said I was lucky to escape."

"But you do not agree."

Estorel seemed to read his mind; and he spoke out loud what nobody else had dared to so far.

"No, I do not agree. I know I should be grateful that I live, and that there is a reason why I am still here, but it is true, I rather wish I were in the Halls of Waiting, with my loved ones."

Estorel nodded, he seemed to have expected that reply. He turned his head, and Legolas could study him. Erestor's stern, cold beauty combined with the arrogance of a young Glorfindel, that was his first thought. A long nose and thin lips which could have looked cruel if it had not been for the gentle brown eyes.

"I know of what you speak, Legolas. They look at me the same way they look at you, wondering how I can look so normal while I am some obscure error of nature. I can see how they wonder what I am, male or female or something else altogether, if I am an Elf or not. My Sia ignores them and really does not seem to care, but it makes me angry. Ada is angry as well, but he hides it. I hate them for their curiosity and ignorance, for staring at me and whispering behind my back. I am an imperfection in a perfect world, an ink stain on an otherwise white sheet."

He turned his head to Legolas, who saw the anger and hurt in those young eyes.

"Hence, I take the liberty of not joining their festivities. I rather sit on a tree and watch the stars."

"So that is what you did tonight? Watching the stars?"

Estorel nodded.

"It is a clear night. No candles or firework could ever be as beautiful as the night sky in all its glory."

Legolas stood up and put the glass aside.

"Show me then, Estorel. I prefer the night sky to the candles as well, and in any case your company to the one of the other guests."

Estorel looked rather surprised.

"This was not meant to be an invitation."

Legolas hinted a bow.

"That is the reason why I invite myself, Estorel. I used to be rather amusing company."

Estorel stood up from the floor in a quick, fluent motion, a sign of his Plains Elf heritage. No normal Elf could have moved with such elegance.

"You have not asked me," Estorel said.

"Asked what?"

"What I am."

Legolas smiled.

"As far as I am concerned, you could have a dragon's tail hidden under those garments, Estorel. I would not understand it, anyway, so it does not make much difference to me."

Estorel tilted his head.

"I remember the last time you were here. Soft velvet, golden hair and your smile. I always remembered that. Especially your smile."

He reached out and touched the sleeve of Legolas' robe.

"Not much has changed, Legolas. Come."

Estorel headed for the door, and Legolas followed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first love might be your last love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

"The furniture in Imladris becomes more uncomfortable and narrow every year," Gimli grumbled, lifting from the seat with many groans and complaints. "Cursed Elves, they do this just to annoy an old Dwarf."

"No doubt, old friend. I really think you should complain with Lord Elrond," Legolas agreed with a stern face. "He will very likely deny that there is a conspiracy, and apply some terribly smelly ointment to your back instead."

Gimli glared at Legolas.

"A king for only a year, and already you are sounding like your father! A good thing Thranduil and Glorfindel's lunatic brother have sailed west; otherwise I'd tell him how this poor old Dwarf here has to suffer from your impertinence!"

"You are not old, Gimli. You are in the prime of life. Why, you still danced on Elrond's table tonight when Glorfindel had crawled back to Erestor already!"

"That's true," Gimli said, and smiled smugly. "I out-danced the Balrog slayer - if that doesn't secure me a place in the history of Arda, then nothing will."

He finally had managed to get to his feet and yawned.

"Time for this young Dwarf here to go to bed. A bit of sleep wouldn't harm you either, Legolas. You have a long journey ahead of you."

The Elf shrugged.

"I just want to sit here by the fire for a while. I do not appreciate the company of so many people, and will enjoy a moment of solitude."

Gimli sighed, then put his large hand on Legolas' arm.

"My offer to come and stay with us for a while still stands, my friend. We are simple folk, but my wife can cook meals worthy of a king, even if it's you. Come and visit us, Legolas."

"I might, Gimli, I might. Thank you for your offer. Now go, your wife will probably already wander the halls of Imladris looking for you, worried that some Elf maid has worked her charms on you."

"Many have tried, but she knows I wouldn't look at any other," Gimli declared. "Good night then, we shall meet again at breakfast."

Legolas waited until Gimli had disappeared before he allowed himself a deep sigh. Twenty years ago, he had spent Yule sitting on a tree, watching the stars with Estorel, and for the first time in many years, he had felt some sort of peace. He appreciated the young one's straightforwardness, and Legolas was happy that he had found somebody who knew how to share his silence. He had often thought of the strange young Elf, and that was the main reason why he had accepted Elrond's invitation for Yule this year.

An exceptionally stupid idea.

It would have been his duty to spend the first Yule as Mirkwood's king at home, of course, but with his father and Nonfindel gone, the prospect of having to participate in the wild and loud festivities of Yule in Mirkwood was not very tempting.

Legolas stared into the fire, and waited for Estorel to turn up. Neither hair nor hide had been seen of him ever since his arrival. He had learned from a rather angry Erestor that Estorel had disappeared again, something he did quite frequently. He often hid for weeks, without leaving a note, and without anybody knowing where he was, causing his parents and his brother much sorrow.

After two hours, Legolas decided that Estorel would not come. He was probably not even in Imladris, but out there in the woods, maybe hunting with Rabbit who shared his dislike for events with more than three Elves attending.

Legolas was tired and decided to go to bed. The journey back to Mirkwood would be long and exhausting; his scars hurt from the cold and he was disappointed that he had to leave without seeing Estorel. He stood up and reached for the bottle of wine next to him when he saw something moving in the shadow.

"Is anybody there?" he asked into the darkness, but there came no answer.

"Estorel, is it you?"

There was only silence. Legolas blamed it on Elrond's sweet wine and headed for his chambers.

* * *

"You went to bed early."

Legolas startled in his bed and reached automatically for his dagger, but then he saw that it was Estorel who was standing by the fire, watching him.

"How could you get in here, past the guards?"

"Their eyes are too slow to see me," Estorel replied, as if that was the most normal thing. "Do not blame them. And why do you need guards, anyway? You are in Imladris. Nobody will cause you any harm here."

"It is one of the unpleasant necessities that come with being a king. Why are you here? First you insult me by not attending the festivities, then you enter my private chambers without being invited!"

Estorel shrugged.

"You have not told me to leave yet."

"Well, I will do so any moment!"

"No, you will not. You want to talk to me, that is why you came here and why you waited in the hall," Estorel said rather cheerfully.

"If you knew I was there, why did you not come?"

"My brother drank more wine than was good for him. He is very fair, but unfortunately a little naïve. I fear one of our guests from Lothlórien tried to seduce him; I am sure you understand I could not allow that."

"Where did you hide the body?"

Estorel chuckled.

"You sound like my father."

For some reasons, Legolas did not like the comparison with Glorfindel. He did not say anything, though, just glared at Estorel.

"So what is it like to be a king?" Estorel asked. "Has the course of your days changed much?"

"I have looked after everything long before my father left to sail west. The only thing different now is that I have constantly a bulk of Elves around me who talk too much and annoy me. So if anything has changed, then only for the worse."

"Do they still stare at you?"

"Blunt as ever. No, they do not. Not anymore. They got used to the way I look."

"And did you get used to the way you look as well?"

Legolas considered the question for a moment, then he shook his head.

"No. No, not really. I guess it is not possible to get used to it. I learned to live with it, though, what else could I do? I cannot change the way things are."

"Please show me, Legolas. I am here because I want to see."

"Want to see what? A king in sleeping pants? How exciting."

Estorel shook his head.

"Show me your scars."

"You can possibly not have come here to ask me to undress for you!"

"Yes, that is actually the reason why I am here. I want to see you, not the king of Mirkwood hiding behind seven layers of cloth."

"Estorel, being blunt is one thing, being impertinent another."

Estorel took a step forward. His long black hair fell over his shoulder, not shiny and soft like Erestor's, but wild, unkempt, only kept out of his face by thin warrior's braids.

"Show me. They say it looks terrible, that you do not even dare to look at yourself in the mirror anymore. Is it true? Can it be this bad? Show me, Legolas."

There was no mocking in his voice, just the clear, cold question of one who was curious to learn about a mystery that puzzled him. Yet it was exactly that matter-of-fact tone that made something inside Legolas snap. He threw back the cover and jumped out of the bed, crossed the room and tried to tackle Estorel.

Alas, the young Elf was too quick, and Legolas' hand only grasped thin air.

"Well, now you can look at me. Do you enjoy the view? Is your curiosity satisfied?" Legolas hissed. The two Elves were circling each other, like two wolves preparing for a fight.

"They also said you used to be a great warrior," Estorel continued, ignoring Legolas' words. "Swift and strong, that nobody could best you. Is that true? Then show me, Legolas. Come and get me."

Legolas tried another attack, but again Estorel escaped with ease.

"This was your second chance, Legolas. Only one left. If you want me, you have to catch me. And you do want me, do you not? I know you do."

Legolas closed his eyes for a moment.

His anger had fogged his mind, but he had to think logical. Estorel had the advantage of youth and health, and he was quicker than other Elves. He also knew about Legolas' weaknesses and used them to his own advantage.

But that was a game two could play.

"How can you be so sure that I want you?" Legolas said, throwing his head back. "Agreed, you are fair, but then so are others, who have better manners and know how to approach a king."

Estorel narrowed his eyes.

"I know you want me."

Legolas laughed.

"I am king now, Estorel. I can have whoever I want, so why should I choose you, of all the Elves?"

Estorel growled, and before Legolas could blink, Estorel attacked him. But this time he was prepared, kicked Estorel's legs away from under him and they both landed on the floor. With his good hand, he firmly held Estorel's hands above his head, and with his weight, he pressed him down on the floor.

Estorel struggled, but he quickly realised that there was no way he could escape. He glared at Legolas, then he gave up.

"Looks like I won," Legolas said. "And dare I say, it would have been more difficult to catch Gimli than you. There is still a lot you have to learn, young one."

Estorel nodded.

"You have bested me, and you are right. I am not the warrior yet that I would like to be. Will you let me go now?"

Legolas looked down at Estorel. They were so close, their noses almost touched.

"I will release you, but I will not let you go. You said I have to catch you if I want you, and catching you I did. You are mine."

He released Estorel's hands, but made otherwise no attempt of standing up. Estorel put his arms around him, and then Legolas could feel sharp fingernails scratching slowly, so deliciously slowly across his skin.

"So you do want me then," Estorel stated. "You fought and you won, like the warrior that you are."

Legolas could feel Estorel's hands on his back, then on his shoulders, running over the terrible marks the fire had left on his skin. The tattoos had either gone or were so badly damaged that they were nothing but black lines or dots, not recognisable anymore as the signs of honour they once had been, telling of the many battles Legolas had fought and the victories he had gained. His chest looked as if it had been stitched together from dozens of badly matched patches. Even Thranduil had turned away in shock when he had seen his child like this for the first time.

Estorel rubbed his cheek on Legolas' chest, his hands now caressing his side. He kissed the burned skin and licked along the scars, making Legolas shiver and biting his lip.

"Velvet , the gold of your hair, and your smile. Not much has changed. I have waited for you, every year."

Legolas buried his good hand in Estorel's hair - so surprisingly soft! - and kissed him. It had been so long since he had last felt a lover's touch, and he had never allowed himself to think of the love he had lost. Not only because he feared the memories, but also the pain of knowing that there would never be a lover's touch for him again. Estorel was right; he wanted him. He wanted him so much that he feared to lose his mind if he could not have him.

Estorel loved him, which was a miracle, and he loved him in return, which was even more of a surprise. How could this be?

Legolas' musings were interrupted by Estorel, who rolled him on his back and straddled him. There was a mischievous smile on his face, and Legolas could see two rows of very white, sharp teeth.

Estorel took off his shirt and threw it aside.

"You showed me," he said. "And now I show you."

Legolas gasped when he felt Estorel's body covering his, skin on skin, and cried out at the sharp pain when his lover bit his shoulder.

* * *

Glorfindel managed to hold back for half a day, which was amazing, considering the circumstances. When he was shortly before exploding with curiosity he finally caved in and tracked down Erestor, who sat over a heap of documents in his study.

"Erestor, may I have a word with you?" Glorfindel asked. Erestor looked up from the document he was reading.

"Of course," he replied absent-mindedly, "just go ahead."

"Erestor, what did Legolas tell you before they left for Mirkwood?"

Erestor made a note on the scroll, sanded it and put it aside.

"He told me that Estorel challenged him."

"Challenged?"

"Yes. And that they had a fight."

"A fight?"

"Fin, please do not repeat everything I say. A fight, indeed. "

Glorfindel stared at Erestor open-mouthed.

"He did not!"

"Oh yes, he did."

"Not Estorel!"

"Yes, Estorel."

"Did he bite him?"

"He did."

Fin sank down in one of the seats and shook his head.

"And you did not tell him?"

"Whom?"

"Legolas!"

"No, of course not."

"But Erestor - he has to know!"

Erestor bundled the documents and put them aside..

"Now Fin, do not be ridiculous. Why ruin the surprise?"

"Some surprise that will be," Glorfindel groaned.

"I guess you can say that, yes."

Erestor folded his hands on his desk and batted his lashes at Glorfindel. "Look on the bright side of it, Fin: Mirkwood is far, far away, it is highly unlikely that you and I will have to look after the Elfling very often."

"Thanks the Valar for small mercies," Glorfindel grumbled, but Erestor could not be fooled: they would have to spend a lot of time in Mirkwood in future.

Oh well, he thought. Worse things could happen.

* * *  
THE END


End file.
